


A Curse At Worst

by orphan_account



Series: Trench [4]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Demaverse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Magical Realism, Shapeshifting, Violence, dema, trench
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 02:18:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15920886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He’s angry that he doesn’t remember his family.He’s angry that he doesn’t remember himself.He’s angry that Dema tried to control him and he’s angry that he has to be the one the deal with this stupid, stupid curse.





	A Curse At Worst

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Cusp](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15886839) by [edy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/edy/pseuds/edy). 



> Here's that last Dema fic I promised-- focusing around Levitate/My Blood. I really liked the take Edy took with magical realism and wanted to do something similar. Please read their fic if you have the chance because it's really, really good!

He knew he would never be able to get over how different Trench looked when the sun set. It was almost as if someone flipped a switch that filled the caverns with darkness and painted the sky a murky black. The skyscrapers back in Dema loomed large above them, full of bright lights and cheery smiles, while he and his were forced to scavenge to stay alive.

That land had once belonged to them, before the bishops got their dirty grey hands all over it. What had once been rolling green hills and mossy cliffs was replaced with concrete and agony of the citizens stuck inside. He remembers. He remembers being trapped in Dema before the Banditos came to save him.

Every day, they lost more of their home and had to retreat farther into Trench. He would never understand why they couldn’t rip out the throats of every single bishop inside that place, but the rational side did understand. It was murder. Could he deal with being a murderer?

Don’t get him wrong, Tyler loved and appreciated the beauty of Trench. He just was tired of running, tired of having to be on watch at all times in case one of the bishops came back for them. He longed for safety and security for the tribe and himself.

Inside the tent, Tyler huddles inside underneath a thin blanket and tries to warm his hands. He knows the perfect way of getting warm, but it was a way that caused him a lot of pain, a way that left a tingle in his skull and the taste of metal in his mouth.

He runs his tongue over the sharp edges of his teeth and stares at the zipped up entrance, waiting for the pawing of Josh’s return. Josh was hunting tonight. Tyler was starving and really hoped he’d get to eat soon.

Despite his protests, Tyler knew he was unfit to go hunting with the others. He was sick, coughing into the crook of his arm, his tiny nose bright red, the edges covered in dried boogers. He tucks his knees further to his chest and closes his eyes, willing the warmth to come to him. He can feel his toenails curling, turning into claws, ripping through his socks, and stops himself with a sigh before it can get any worse. Dammit. No wonder all his socks were ripped to shreds. He was a dumbass.

Tyler knows that morphing at this point will only waste his energy and make him more sick, but he’s freezing his ass off. He really needs Josh to come back and cuddle with him or he will risk snapping his bones for an extra layer of warmth.

Finally, there is a scratching at the opening of the tent and Tyler crawls on all fours to unzip it. He’s greeted by a small wolf with a thick coat of black fur and the cutest brown eyes Tyler has even seen. The wolf drops the mounds of meat in his mouth to the floor and pushes his snout into Tyler’s palm, panting as Tyler scratches behind his ears and pats his back. His tail wags a mile a minute as he drops down into Tyler’s lap and demands more pets, licking the sliver of skin between his pants and drooping socks. Tyler laughs as he continues stroking Josh’s fur.

“Hey, bud. Good to see you. Was wondering how long it was going to take you to get back.”

Josh whines in response and gives Tyler a few more kisses. In response, Tyler kisses the top of Josh’s head, right between his perked ears. That’s when Tyler notices Josh’s twisted hind leg and frowns, his nails still scratching, digging deep underneath Josh’s coat.

“What did you do, J?” More whines follow. Tyler clicks his tongue as he moves back to retrieve Josh’s new set of clothes and plops them down in front of whining boyfriend. “C’mon, let me see your beautiful, naked, human body.”

Josh paws at the floor and gestures to their game. Tyler shakes his head.

“You’re going to cook it anyways, pussy. I can’t have a conversation with you when you can only communicate in whines.”

Josh growls. Tyler flips him off and settles back down against the bedroll, his eyes hooded as he waits for Josh to morph back.

The process, to be blunt, was painful. As much as Tyler liked to be in wolf form, getting there was uncomfortable, so he didn’t blame Josh for being reluctant to turn back. There’s a loud pop of dislocating bone and muscle as Josh whines in pain, his front paws shifting into hands with opposable thumbs and his fur molding into soft, pale skin. He breathes in deep through his nose, his teeth grinding loudly against each other, until the transformation is complete and Josh sits in front of him with his dick out.

Tyler scoffs. “God, put some clothes on, perv.”

“Excuse me, who’s the one who got you dinner tonight?” Josh cocks an eyebrow mischievously as he shimmies into a pair of boxers and matches it with some joggers and a bright yellow sweatshirt. That’s what everyone wore out here: yellow. It was the sign of the tribe, the sign of family, the sign of well being. It was bright and easy to spot, which made it easier to find other Banditos out in the inky blackness. Usually when they were in wolf form they’d try to wear some form of yellow as well, usually tape wrapped around the ankle, but Josh, being a small, cunning black wolf, found it easier to hunt when no one or no thing could see him.

“What are we eating?” Tyler asks, rolling up his sleeves. Josh takes the raw meat in his hand and uses the other to peel back the flap of the tent.

“Rabbit. C’mon, the others are getting a fire started.”

“I’m fine with eating it raw,” Tyler tells him, flashing two rows of his sharp, wolf-like teeth. That was one part of himself Tyler refused to ever return back to human. They were his defense mechanism and helped him cope with the fact that his teeth were crooked beyond all belief.

Josh sighs, his fluffy dark hair falling over his forehead. “Ty, come on.”

“I’m cold, dude. And really sick. You don’t want me to get sicker, do you?”

“If that’s the case, then come out and sit by the fire, _pussy,”_ Josh narrows his eyes, a smirk on his face, and Tyler grunts.

“That was my joke.”

“Get your ass out here, Joseph.” The tent flap shuts as Josh scampers away with dinner in his arms. With an annoyed scoff, Tyler decides to be petty, because that’s just how he is, and he really is freezing his ass off. Slowly, he peels off all his clothes, including his socks and briefs, and closes his eyes, grimacing as his bones begin to shift. Tyler knew he could be a lot, which was why he was so ecstatic that Josh was still around and still willing to put up with him. Unlike the other Banditos, Tyler’s rescue from Dema was difficult and resulted in a riot that got many people killed. Tyler knew it was his fault, despite the others telling him it wasn’t. He knew they wanted to stop the bishops as much as he did, but sometimes it felt like he was the only one dedicating his time to their destruction.

His paws are white, the top of his coat a soft golden brown. Josh often joked that Tyler was his toasted marshmallow and Tyler was more than happy with that pet name.

He nudges the tent flat out of the way with his nose and pads over to the campfire, his ears perked and tail wagging behind him as he sits down next to Josh. Josh glares at him and shakes his head.

“I swear to God, Tyler.”

Tyler barks, hoping it gets his point across for what he actually wants to say: _Bite my ass._

“When you’re sore in the morning, don’t come whining to me.” Josh has his pant leg rolled up and is constructing a tourniquet. One of the other banditos gets their meal ready as Tyler tilts his head at Josh’s injury. He looks up at him, feeling small compared to Josh’s human size. When they were both wolves, Tyler towered over Josh, despite the fact that Josh was supposed to be the leader. It was both ironic and hilarious to see someone so aggressive be the runt of the litter.

Josh clicks his tongue. “I’m okay, honestly. I just think I twisted it while I was hunting. Someone fired a gun and we scattered. Probably just one of the stupid bishops.”

That really pisses Tyler off. He hates when Josh comes home hurt, and, unfortunately, it happened more often than Tyler would have liked.

He pulls his lips over his teeth and growls. Josh hushes him.

“I’m _fine,_ Tyler. Now will you stop be a baby and go get dressed? I just want to eat dinner with you normally. No more of this wolf bullshit.”

_Fine,_ Tyler whines, already regretting his decision to morph in the first place. He had done it to piss Josh off, but now he would have to turn back, put his sore arms and legs through his clothes, and walk back out to the campfire with his head hung. It was his fault for being petty about Josh not letting him eat in the tent. To be fair, Josh was the cleaner of the two. Even though they were wild animals, he refused to live like one.

When Tyler sulks back in his human form and drops down next to Josh on the log, he’s met with the warmth of the flames. He stares for a few seconds, chewing on his bottom lip, before turning back towards Josh’s bruised leg.

“You’re limping,” he points out.

“I twisted it.” Josh scrunches his nose up and Tyler knows immediately that he’s lying.

“I don’t think that’s what a twisted ankle looks like. Pretty sure it’s broken. You’ll have to get it reset.”

“I don’t,” Josh swallows, his jaw clenched, “why do you have to argue with everything I say?”

“Because I love you,” Tyler replies. Josh scoffs.

“You are a pain in the ass, but your my pain in the ass.” He pulls Tyler in for a half hug and kisses his forehead. “I know it’s broken. Just let me pretend it’s not for a little bit before I go see the doc, okay?”

“Okay,” Tyler replies, keeping his head nestled against Josh’s shoulder. He stares into the flames and ignores his grumbling tummy. “Do you think the members of Dema know about us?”

“You mean the Banditos?”

A shrug. “Our kind. In general. None of us really understand why we’re like this, do we?”

“No,” Josh sighs, tucking his arm around Tyler’s shoulders so he can lay across his lap. Tyler shivers when Josh begins to thread his fingers through his hair. “All I know, all we know, is that our people have been like this since the beginning of time.”

“Do you remember your life before Trench? Before Dema?” Tyler sinks his long nails into Josh’s thigh. They have mud caked underneath them.

“Not much,” Josh admits. Not many people have any recollection of life before. The bishops stole them away, made them bow to foreign concepts, did things to them to make them tick. Tyler remembers how scared he was the first time he morphed inside Dema. It was in the comfort of his tiny, grey bedroom, and he tore completely through his jumpsuit. Every inch of his body ached. His bones popped and cracked. His shoulders dislocated, folded inwards, until he was no longer staring at himself, but at the face of a golden wolf. He remembers sobbing, scared out of his mind, doomed to be stuck in his room as a wild dog for all of eternity.

Josh was the one who found him, the one who swept Tyler into his arms, curled him to his chest, brought him somewhere safe. The Banditos had allies and safe rooms all throughout Dema to keep their people safe. Tyler was one of them, and they protected their kind.

“I remember the leaves changing color and falling off the trees,” Josh continues, still raking his fingers over the length of Tyler’s scalp, “I remember two little girls with fiery red hair. I think they were my sisters. I’m pretty sure I had a brother, too. The thing is, I don’t remember when I left them. How I left them. How I got from my home to Trench. And when I start thinking about home, it’s like, a weird, fever dream.”

“I know what you mean,” Tyler murmurs, still staring at the fire. Its bright tendrils call out to him and burn his eyes. It must have been a wolf thing that made his eyesight so much better in the inky blackness of the night. “I think I had brothers, too.”

“Remember what they looked like?”

“Not one bit. And that makes it feel even more like a fever dream.” Tyler sniffs right as someone comes over with two metal bowls full of meat and veggies. He sits up, passes a bowl to Josh, and thanks the man before digging into soft carrots and peas. He’s starving, scarfing down his meal like the wild animal he knows he is.

Josh on the other hand, eats slowly, stabbing his pieces of meat with a fork and chewing them properly with his mouth shut. Tyler growls at him. He loved Josh to pieces, but they disagreed on several things, the biggest being the way they wanted to live life out here in Trench. Josh saw himself as a person with a special gift; Tyler viewed it as a curse that he fully deserved. He was a wild, feral animal who deserved to live like one.

“What are you growling at?” Josh looks at him and sighs. “Tyler, please. Be civilized.”

“What for,” Tyler asks with his mouth completely full. A bit of spit dribbles down his chin as he shovels another forkful in.

“Because we’re still human.”

His sharp teeth crunch down on a piece of rabbit. “Would have liked this better raw.”

“Do you wanna talk about this, Tyler?”

“I thought we were.”

He frowns. “You know what I’m talking about. I just wanted this one night to pretend we were normal.”

“But we aren’t normal,” Tyler hisses at the flames. He knows he’s making Josh angry. He knows it, yet he can’t stop. Tyler was an arguer, and his competitive nature didn’t help with that either.

Josh sets his bowl down in the grass beneath the log, only half eaten, and shoots Tyler a look of despair. “I’ll be in the tent when you’re ready to act like a human being.”

Tyler is angry. Not at Josh, not at the Banditos, but at himself. He’s been angry for a long, long time.

He licks the bowl clean and sets it down next to Josh’s. The others watch him, observe him. Tyler is fresh meat, despite the fact that he’s been out here for almost four months.

“He’s been worried about you,” one of them says softly. Tyler thinks his name is Clancy. He really hasn’t bothered to memorize anyone’s names here in camp.

“Josh worries too much,” Tyler mutters.

“He has every right to worry,” another one speaks up, “you’re new to this, and not taking it seriously.” Tyler stands up. He can feel his toes curling in his shoes, can feel the poke of his fangs through his cheeks, can feel the anger in his blood.

Tyler doesn’t mean too, he really doesn’t, because they can’t afford to lose any more clothing right now, can’t afford to replace it, but he shifts, tearing right through his clothes, sending the tatters into the fire. He leans back on his haunches, the hair on his back rising, as he growls at the group in front of him. He hates this. He hates all of this.

“Go,” someone screams at him. Tyler steps back, leans his weight on his hind legs, whines a little, even glances back at his and Josh’s tent.

Josh is watching the scene fold out in front of him with a disappointed expression on his face.

So Tyler does the only thing he can think of in that moment: he runs.

 

* * *

 

He knows how many problems he causes amongst the group. He knows the others don’t like him and don’t put the trust in him that Josh does. Maybe that’s why Tyler is so angry with the world around him.

He’s angry that he doesn’t remember his family. He’s angry that he doesn’t remember himself. He’s angry that Dema tried to control him and he’s angry that he has to be the one the deal with this stupid, stupid curse. Tyler doesn’t understand why the others are so okay with it or why they are so willing to dedicate their lives to protecting the insiders. They should be dedicating their time to getting their land back, to getting _their fucking_ _lives_ back.

Instead, Tyler is out here on all fours running around the hills hunting rabbits like some kind of dumbass.

He eats until his tummy is full, blood staining his mouth and perfect, white fur all the way down his neck. Tyler pauses to howl at the moon, to howl away all his pain and anger, like that might somehow help. It doesn’t, but he likes to pretend.

It is then that he clambers back to the Bandito camp, his tail tucked between his legs, and paws at the front of the tent. He must have been gone for a while, because the fire has been extinguished, only bright, orange embers any indication of activity. Josh unzips the tent and stares for a few seconds at Tyler pleading to come inside.

“You pissed a lot of people off, Ty,” he whispers. Tyler whines. He knows Josh will let him in, because that’s just how he is. He doesn’t have the heart to make Tyler sleep outside in the cold, whether or not he’s got a coat of fur to keep him warm.

Josh scoffs. “I get why you don’t like me whining. It does get pretty annoying, doesn’t it?”

Tyler paws at the ground, trying to clean the mud off the bottom of his feet before he steps inside. He leans back and offers Josh his front paw.

“I won’t force you to morph back tonight, because it is fucking cold, but know that first thing tomorrow, you and I need to have a long conversation about your behavior.”

Tyler nods, and with a hefty sigh, Josh beckons him inside. He walks in circles before settling down on top of his pillow as Josh zips up the tent and climbs back underneath the blanket. He allows Tyler to rest his chin on his chest and scratches him behind his ears, causing Tyler to purr.

No one was sure why, but both of them had to be in the same form in order to properly communicate. Unfortunately, it was often rare for them to both be in the same form. While Tyler used his abilities as an excuse to lash out, Josh used his for the sake of the mission and nothing else. The thing about werewolves is that none of stuff they had ever learned prepared them for actually being one.

It was true that the full moon gave them more strength and power than they already had, but it also made them extremely horny; sex on the night of a full moon had Tyler feeling like he could move entire mountains with his bare hands.

However, they could be killed with anything, not only silver, and, although fairly well built, they did not gain the abilities of super speed or super strength; it just so happened that wolves were both faster and stronger than human beings.

“Why have you been so rowdy lately?” Josh slides his thumb down over Tyler’s snout and chuckles when Tyler’s tail begins to wiggle. “The others, they get so upset with me for bringing you here. They say you don’t belong. I mean, obviously you do, if you can spout fur and crack your bones on command.” Tyler licks Josh’s hand. Josh goes back to petting him, his strokes long, gentle, and thoughtful. “I know you’re scared, Tyler. We all are. It’s not like this is something that happens to everyone, but we are the ones who were chosen, and we need to respect that. You growling at everyone, threatening them, does not help us the mission.”

_Fuck the mission,_ Tyler thinks as he lays his head down on his front paws.

“They want to shave you, claim you have fleas.” That catches Tyler’s attention and he sits up immediately, baring his teeth in a low growl. Josh chuckles and pushes Tyler back into his lap. “I won’t let them do that, Ty. You know that. Chill.”

Tyler listens. It feels nice to have Josh pet him. He admits he likes it even when he’s human. Josh’s fingers are comforting, no matter where they are on his body.

“I know I’m biased when it comes to you, my little toasted marshmallow,” Tyler honks as some attempt at laughter, which in turn causes Josh to laugh himself. “God, I love when you do that.”

Tyler honks again and then sneezes. He wonders if wolves out in the wild get colds.

“A wolf with a cold. That’s a sight for sore eyes.”

_Fuck you,_ Tyler barks, shooting Josh a look. Josh smirks.

“Anyway. I’m just saying that the others claim I treat you better than them and I’m well aware of that. It’s just hard to not treat you better when we fuck and stuff.” Tyler sneezes again. Josh runs his thumb over the top of Tyler’s ears. “And I love you, so, there’s that, too.”

Another purr. Tyler stands up on Josh’s stomach and worms his way underneath the blanket. Josh lets out an _oof,_ the wind knocked out of him, as Tyler settles back on his ribcage.

“Christ. You’re a handful.” He barks. Josh shakes his head. “Don’t think I don’t see your teeth, man. I know you keep them sharpened. And I think I know why. Let me know if I’m right, okay?” A pause. “You’re scared the bishops will take you again.”

Tyler whimpers. Josh sighs. “That’s what I thought. But they won’t. I won’t let them get you ever again. If they do, I will rip their throats out.”

Josh was not a violent person, so hearing him say that makes Tyler’s stomach twist in both appreciation and terror. He should feel safe, but he doesn’t. Tyler doesn’t think he’ll ever feel safe, not out here.

His hand moves to scratch underneath Tyler’s chin. Tyler closes his eyes and allows his fate to be in Josh’s hands, just for tonight. For tomorrow, he knows he’ll have to face his demons.

“I love you,” Tyler tries to say, but it sounds more like “oww-oo-woo.” Either way, Josh understands, and leans down to press a feathery-light kiss to the top of his head.

“I love you too, ya big oaf.”

 

* * *

 

With the morning comes the frost. Tyler can feel Josh shivering in his sleep underneath him and gives him a few sloppy kisses with his tongue before climbing out from under the blankets. He notes the clothes Josh sat out for him and huffs his appreciation before allowing the all too familiar sensation of cracking bones and popping joints to overcome him. The whole process takes no longer than a minute, but with all the pain it brings, it might as well be hours.

A chill runs down his spine as he quickly changes into his pants, slides on his hoodie, buttons up his jacket, pulls a beanie down over his ears— and crawls back under the blanket to snuggle up to Josh’s side. He’s still warm enough from the fur coat, so Josh wraps his arms around him and pulls him close.

He smacks his lips. “Good morning, Tyler.”

“Hey,” Tyler replies lamely. He looks at the dirt caked under his fingernails and picks at them, letting the small clumps fall into the blankets. It’s not the dirtiest thing that’s touched these blankets.

“You were snoring. Do you know how loud dogs snore? I almost thwacked you on the head.”

“Thank you for not doing that.” He sniffs and wipes away snot on his sleeve. Josh rolls over to look at him and places a cold hand on Tyler’s cheek.

“Mmm. You’re warm.”

“Yes,” Tyler agrees, smiling. Josh smiles back.

“I like your crooked teeth. Gives you character. Wish you wouldn’t make ‘em all sharp and scary all the time.”

“Just gotta be prepared,” is Tyler’s excuse.

Josh is quiet. Tyler is quiet. Josh speaks. “Can we talk about yesterday now?”

“I suppose.” He doesn’t want to, but Josh is gonna force him either way so Tyler decides he’ll cooperate.

“What is going on with you, man?”

Tyler sighs. “I... I don’t want to be here.”

“Oh, Tyler.” Josh’s thumb rubs across his cheekbone. “I know it’s hard, but you’ve been here for practically four months; you know how things work by now.”

“Doesn’t mean I like it. The others don’t like me, just like you said last night. They think I’m a handful. And maybe I am, I dunno. I certainly feel like a burden to you.”

“You aren’t,” Josh tells him. “You’re here for a reason. You’re one of us. You’re a part of our tribe, our family, and if the others can’t see that, then fuck them. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“It’s just hard, Josh,” Tyler feels the prick of tears against his eyelids. His muscles are sore from his transformation and it feels like he has bruises near his hips. He always got bruises there when the joints moved backwards out of their sockets to make his back curve so he had four legs instead of two. Josh tended to get bruises near his collarbone, when his jowls drooped and spouted fur. “It’s hard because I never asked for this. It’s like, I was cursed, or something. And all of you treat it like it’s the best thing in the world to be able to have your entire body crack and twist into the anatomy of a fucking wolf. I don’t think that’s cool. I think it fucking sucks, and it fucking hurts, and fucking _pisses me off_ that my body always aches. We always have broken bones, sore muscles, twisted ankles, fucking, bruises everywhere.” The tears paint his face in two, thin brushstrokes. “Does no one ever ask the questions I ask, or care to know the answers? Because it really frustrates me that all I get in return for asking is ‘it happened a really, really long time ago.’ Maybe the Bishops did this to us. Maybe they fucked us over with this just like that did with everything else.” He scoffs. “Fucking Dema. Fucking Trench. I fucking _hate it here.”_

Josh doesn’t reply right away, but instead, moves his hand from Tyler’s cheekbone to sweep the hair off his own forehead. Tyler looks away from his face and sniffs some more. Perfect. This is exactly what he needs for his cold: more snot and more tears.

“We aren’t safe, Josh. We aren’t. The bishops, they took me once already. They can do it again. They can dig their dirty nails into my neck and drag me back to the depths of hell, but this time, I’ll bite their fingers off.”

“That’s why you keep your teeth all wolf-like, huh?” He keeps his voice low. The wind rustles their tent and Tyler thinks he can smell something cooking outside.

“I’d stay in my wolf-form all the time if I could,” he mumbles, feeling dumb for admitting that right after he talked about how much he hated it. “I’m an animal. I don’t deserve to be here walking around like I’m human.”

Tyler takes Josh’s breath away, who grabs hold of his shirt when he tries to roll away. Josh’s nails are sharp, claw-like, as he lets his inner beast take over. “Don’t you ever say that again or I will throw you off the cliffs,” Josh growls. Tyler’s eyes widen.

“Jesus Christ, dude.”

He clears his throat and his nails retract back to being bitten and short. “Sorry. I, I didn’t mean that. But what I do mean is that you aren’t an animal, Tyler, and you definitely deserve to be human, to be _alive._ What would prompt you to say such a thing?”

“I am cursed,” he shrugs his shoulders, because it’s _that_ simple, “that’s all this is. I was snatched from my family, locked in the walls of Dema, tortured, and for what? To find out that I’m half-wolf? Because that sounds like a curse to me, Josh. A curse I deserve because I am a sinner. I am a mess. Maybe I do deserve to wander around as a wild animal, to be treated as a wild animal. At least then I could install fear into people.”

Josh sighs, shakes his head. He rests his hand on Tyler’s thigh and rubs it through his pants. “You aren’t cursed, Tyler. We’re just... gifted, is all. We’re the protectors of Trench. We’re the ones who are supposed to help Dema citizens escape.”

“That’s another fucking thing the bishops took from us. Our fucking land. And we’re forced to retreat with our tails between our legs as we lose more and more to the concrete fortress that is Dema. You know what Dema stands for? Demanding, egotistical, masochistic assholes, that’s what. That’s all those bishops are.” He pauses, thinking out his next words carefully. He knows they will upset Josh. “We’re cowards.”

Sure enough, his cheek twitches. “We aren’t cowards. We just need to be reasonable. They have the upper hand.”

Tyler snorts. “We’re the ones with razor sharp teeth and claws.”

“We don’t kill people,” Josh reminds him. “We aren’t murderers.”

“Yeah? Then this really is a curse. I can’t even get my fucking revenge on the people who did this to me.”

“We don’t know that, Tyler.” Josh is soft. Josh is always soft. How does he deal with having Tyler, who is the exact opposite, full of pain and anger, around? How does he do it?

Tyler hates himself half the time. He wouldn’t even want to deal with himself.

“We don’t know that they _aren’t_ the ones who did this to us.”

Josh bites his tongue. “You’re right,” he gives in. “But we can’t kill them, not unless our lives are at stake. We’re working on bringing Dema down. We just need to be smart about it.”

Tyler knows that. He just doesn’t want to admit it because he’s angry.

“How long have you known?”

The question takes Josh off guard. “What?”

“About the morphing thing. When it happened to you for the first time, were you scared?”

His breath leaves his body through his nose, close enough that it’s warm on Tyler’s face. He curves his fingers over the bridge of Tyler’s nose and touches his chapped lips before tucking his arm underneath his head. “Of course I was. I was terrified. I couldn’t stop crying. What are you supposed to do when something like that happens?” He shakes his head and scoffs. “But someone came for me, brought me somewhere safe, explained everything to me. Told me that I was chosen, hand picked, to be a protector of Trench. I think that was about three years ago.”

“Three years,” Tyler whispers. He’s known about the shapeshifting thing for four months. Four long, goddamn months. “When does it get easier? When did you stop feeling so afraid?”

“The truth is, Tyler, it doesn’t get easier. I’m still scared of a lot of things. I wake up fearing for the lives of my people, for your safety, scared that one day I’ll lose everything. And if I lost you, I don’t know what I would do with myself.”

Tyler takes Josh’s words in like a fresh breath of air. He’s staring at Josh’s face in the darkness, his eyes adjusted enough to see the cut on Josh’s lip and the glint of his nose ring. His heart presses against his chest, his stomach still wrought with butterflies, because that’s just what Josh _does to him._

Josh’s eyes glitter with tiny flecks of yellow. He wonders if Josh feels just as aroused as him— and then wonders if that the human part of him or the wolf.

Tyler kisses him, caving in to his inner beast, but keeps his teeth locked behind his lips. As rowdy as he wanted to get, hurting Josh was not on his agenda, not unless Josh was okay with it. That kiss just by itself is enough for Josh, so it’s enough for him.

“Do you think my kids will be like me?” Tyler asks after he’s flopped onto his back. “Able to morph into little shithead pups and bite people.”

“I don’t know how you’re expecting to have a kid, Ty, because I don’t have a uterus.”

“Good, then. I don’t want to bring kids into this kind of world.” He pushes his hand forward to splay his fingers over Josh’s sternum. If he listens hard enough, he can hear the drumming of his heart beat just like he can feel it underneath his hand.

“Who is deciding who the protectors of Trench are? And why has nobody ever said no?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” Josh replies, “maybe nobody felt they could say no.”

A pause. “What if I wanted to say no? What if I wanted to say fuck it, strip down naked, and live the rest of my life as some sort of savage? Like, the taste of blood— I crave it. Especially when I’m in my wolf form for a long period of time.”

“That’s why we try to stay civil. Why we don’t tear through our clothes and run off into the wilderness.”

Tyler’s cheeks turn pink; he knows that was directed at him.

He wants to pull away, but Josh’s eyes hold him captive. “I don’t feel like I’m worthy enough to be human,” he whispers.

“You are,” Josh promises, pulling him into a tight hug.

 

* * *

 

The sun peaks above the horizon when the two lovers finally emerge from their tent. A small group of Banditos sit around the fire with them as they eat their bland oatmeal in silence, watching smoke funnel from the factories inside the Dema walls. Josh rests his hand on Tyler’s thigh and never pulls up, reminding Tyler that he’s There.

“I see you’re back.” It’s that guy from last night with the threatening eyes and broad shoulders. He wears a yellow bandana and has a spiral of yellow tape down his right arm. Tyler looks down at his lap as Josh’s hand clenches around his thigh.

“Hey man,” Josh warns, his tone low and gruff, “stand down.”

The Bandito shrugs his taped up yellow shoulders and scoffs. “If all I have to do to get what I want is fuck you, then I’m game. Where do I sign up?”

Tyler’s nose drips. He wipes it with his sleeve as a deep growl comes from Josh’s throat.

“Stand down,” he repeats, “I am your leader, and will be treated with respect—”

“Some leader you are,” He is up now, his eyes flickering with yellow spots and his shoulders pulled in tight to his body as a defense mechanism. “A leader wouldn’t give special treatment to the boy he fucks.”

None of the others say a thing. Tyler’s face burns with embarrassment instead of anger and he doesn’t understand why. Maybe it’s because, deep down, he knows this guy is right. Josh can say it all he wants, but Tyler knows he deserves all the fury directed his way. He’s always known that.

“Tyler is one of us,” Josh hisses, up on his feet as well. He points an accusing finger. “He gets the same treatment you all do.”

“Yeah, right. You don’t think we see you sneaking him extra rations? Or letting him get off scot-free for his behavior? He got so angry yesterday he tore through his clothes. Clothes that some cold person could have had if he hadn’t been so careless.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Tyler whispers, not audible for the conversation going on in front of him. Josh is fumbling with the snaps of his coat, peeling it off his arms, sliding his hoodie off his torso. He must know what’s going to come. That’s Josh’s favorite hoodie— Tyler’s, too. It was one they shared so much that neither could remember who it had originally belonged to. He wouldn’t want to do anything that would result in its end.

“That would usually warrant some punishment, and yet, he comes back, sulking, and you let him in with no repercussions. I say we kick him out.”

That provokes a response from some of the other Banditos watching the argument. Murmurs fill Tyler’s ears and tears prick the corners of his eyes. The others hate him. He’s always known that. It’s just painful to sit here and listen to the truth.

“We aren’t kicking him out,” Josh raises his voice but stays firm. “We have never kicked one of our own out. He’s learning. We all remember what it was like to be new to this—”

“Save it, Josh! It’s been four fucking months! He’s not a kid! Stop protecting him and let him learn how much it fucking sucks out here. So maybe get his dick out of your mouth and let him figure things out on his own.”

That is the straw that broke the camel’s back; in this case, Josh being the camel. The group breaks out into pure hysteria as Josh rips through his human vessel, presenting a furious savage animal launching itself at the upset Bandito. He morphs too, sinking his teeth into Josh’s leg the second he attacks. Tyler yells out in fear, his half-eaten oatmeal plummeting into the grass below like his heart does inside his ribcage. Banditos try to hold the two back, but Josh manages to slip through their fingers and slams his entire weight into the grey wolf.

“Josh, stop it!” Tyler manages to latch on to the scruff of Josh’s neck and yanks him back with everything he has. His teeth bared, Josh tries to pull away, but Tyler refuses to let him go. “No,” he shouts a few times, his face red, “Absolutely not.”

The others have the defiant Bandito under control too, both men contained by the hands of bystanders. Josh’s injured leg shakes. Tyler kneels down next to him and runs his hand along the length of Josh’s back, soothing him with careful pats.

Someone screams. Josh turns his head-- and before anyone can stop him, the deviant is attacking again, putting all his strength into chomping down on Josh’s neck. Tyler lands on his back, his head hitting the circle of rocks around the fireplace. As his vision stirs, he can hear Josh whimper in pain, sees his black paws retreating downhill in a spray of mud and twigs and blades of glass. He swears he can smell smoke.

As he rolls onto his hands and knees, Tyler catches glimpses of yellow and the rip of fabric blares in his ears. His own shoulder blades pop, but he refuses to let himself wolf out, not until he can understand what’s happening and where Josh went.

“Josh?” One hand latches onto the log he had sat on only moments either as the other slides through the remains of his breakfast. Tyler wipes the oatmeal on his pants and stands up, spinning in a circle for some implication that his dark haired beauty is still around.

He can feel the familiar warm stickiness coating the back of his head as he stares at the yellow hoodie draped in the grass, his sanity fading as he begins to realize that something is terribly wrong.

And then, in the distance, Tyler can hear them. They come galloping on extravagant white horses, their red cloaks billowing out behind them with the wind. He can see their dark hands across the hillside from where he stands, the anger inside him finally exploding like the fiery, hot volcano he’s always been. He’s suffered at the hands of those evil bastards for far too long, and all his pent up aggression is pushing out of his pores. Tyler decides that maybe he’d be okay with being labelled as a murderer if that meant every last one of those bishops were nothing but rotting corpses.

The liquid bruises on his skin melt behind tufts of fur as his body folds in on itself. An exasperated gasp of pain as his skull shifts, the head wound he suffered burning his brain. His whole body throbs. Tyler can’t remember the last time he felt this much pain from morphing and every step forward fills his body with pure agony. He pushes through it, stepping out of the remaining tatters of his clothes and narrows in on Josh’s scent.

_Josh,_ his thoughts are rushed and full of fear as he darts through the camp and maneuvers around other members. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees flames. _Josh, where are you?_

Tyler smells blood and follows it. The farther away he gets from camp, the closer he gets to Josh, to his musk and pheromones overcoming the scent of the rolling hills and mossy cliffs.

Finally, he sees Josh, cowering underneath a large rock, his head on his front paws and his ears laid flat. He has his injured leg sticking out; no doubt it was broken again during the shift.

With a long sigh, Tyler nudges his head into Josh’s neck and begins to lap away the blood in his fur with his ridged tongue.

_You’re bleeding,_ Josh whimpers. Tyler sniffs.

_Hit my head,_ he replies back, _I’m okay. You broke your leg again._

_The camp is trashed, isn’t it?_ Josh looks at him with those big puppy dog eyes of his. Ironic, considering he is a giant dog right now.

_They came for us,_ Tyler says, pausing to nestle his nose against the scruff of Josh’s neck. _We have nothing, Josh._

No supplies, no food, no clothes, no shelter. It wouldn’t even be worth it for them to morph back. They would die out here within hours.

Tyler was used to this. Out here, he had to spontaneous, had to expect the unexpected.

If you didn’t, you would perish.

_That’s not true,_ Josh shifts so Tyler can squeeze under the hang of the rock to protect him from the wind. Josh moves his paw so it lays on top of Tyler’s; the closest way they can hold hands without needing actual hands. _We have each other._

He feels Josh press a wet, messy kiss to the side of his face and honks a little. Snot drips from his nose, but his cold is the last thing on his mind.

_Yeah, well,_ he licks Josh back and lowers his head down, _welcome to trench._

**Author's Note:**

> Pastelxmess on tumblr, come talk to me!
> 
> Also, if you ever want me to see something posted on Twitter, I sometimes stalk the "pastelmess" phrase in the search bar. Just like Tyler, I'm always watching...


End file.
